Opposites
by LittleBritainFanatic
Summary: Dr Lawrence is a lonely, friendless widower. Lou is a lonely, mistreated carer. When the two of them meet, they find themselves bonding, and maybe even helping each other cope with their unhappy lives. Slash - slow building Dr Lawrence/Lou.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"I'm home!" Dr Lawrence called cheerfully, opening the front door and stepping across the threshold into his cottage. "Richie! Emma! Where are you?" He shut the front door and pulled off his leather shoes, listening out for signs of life from his two children. There was silence for a few seconds, before seven year old Richard (or Richie, as he preferred to be called) came thundering down the stairs.

"Hi, Daddy!" He shouted excitedly.

"Careful." His father said warningly, worried Richie was going to fall. When the boy reached the hallway, Dr Lawrence picked him up and hugged him tightly, before asking, "Where's Emma?" He sounded both confused and worried.

"Don't you remember, Daddy?" Richie said, laughing slightly at his dad's forgetfulness. "She's at Chloe's house."

"Oh, yes," Dr Lawrence grinned, before putting Richie down. "Were you fine on your own?" He asked.

As Dr Lawrence was a single parent, and he worked a nine to seven shift at the Steven Spielberg mental hospital, he usually, he usually employed a child minder to look after his children after school. But, as she was ill, Dr Lawrence had had no choice but to leave them home alone today. He had been worried sick all day, particularly because Richie was all on his own, and he thought that Anne, the main patient he cared for, had noticed, for she basically followed him around all day, giving him 'presents' (that were actually flowers from the beds in the garden; they were a bit muddy, but it was a nice gesture all the same - he just wished Anne hadn't put the flowers down his underpants, because he had had to buy new ones in his lunch hour, which was a right palaver), which he guessed was he own way of reassuring him. Either that, or Anne was just being more weird than usual.

"Of course I was, Daddy, it was only four hours." Richie replied, heading into the living room and sounding much more mature than a seven year old.

"That's good." Dr Lawrence followed his son and ruffled his fluffy blonde hair, smiling fondly. "Do you want a drink, Richie?" He asked, and, when Richie nodded, Dr Lawrence headed into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a tray carrying two glasses of apple juice and a plate of biscuits. When Richie's face lit up at the sight of the chocolate chip biscuits, Dr Lawrence chuckled, "I thought you might be a bit hungry - and I was right!" He said.

Switching on the TV, he began to flick through the channels, but, as usual, there wasn't anything good on, so Dr Lawrence turned to face Richie instead. For the first time since getting in, Dr Lawrence noticed that Richie seemed rather nervous, and wondered why.

"Did you have a good day?" Dr Lawrence asked.

Richie looked down, biting his lip as if he was trying to force himself to speak. "We were doing family trees, Daddy," He paused, starting to tremble, but Dr Lawrence didn't interrupt, he let the boy take his time, "and, well, I didn't know what to do, because my teacher told me off for not filling in my ma-te-r-nal-" He struggled to pronounce the word, but Dr Lawrence nodded, silently telling him he was correct. "-side properly, but I didn't like being shouted at, and it wasn't my fault, because I couldn't do it - b-because I don't have a mummy to-" Richie's voice cracked, and he began to sob, trying to hide his face in his hands.

"Hey, it's alright," Dr Lawrence said soothingly, pulling Richie into a hug. "I need to have a word with your teacher, she should know about our family's situation." He said more to himself than Richie, rubbing the sobbing boy's back. Dr Lawrence felt tears welling up in his own eyes, and he had to blink hard to stop them spilling over. He had never spoken to his children about their mother before, because they were too young, or he found it too upsetting, but Dr Lawrence knew that he now had to tell them, no matter how distressing it was for him.

Just as he was about to speak, Dr Lawrence heard the doorbell ring and, easing Richie off of his lap, he went to answer it. Standing on his doorstep was nine year old Emma, and Chloe's mother, who grinned as she saw him.

"Hello, Doctor," Said Chloe's mum, holding her hand out, which Dr Lawrence shook.

"Just call me Lawrence," He replied, smiling back in an attempt to pretend he wasn't about to have a discussion with his children about their dead mother as soon as she left.

Emma grinned at her father, thanked Chloe's mum, and entered the house, followed closely by Dr Lawrence.

"Hi Dad, I had a great time!" Emma babbled hyper actively, hugging her father and then running into the living room. She stopped as she saw her brother in tears, and, a look of confusion on her face, said, "Richie, are you crying?"

"No." He mumbled, sniffing furiously.

"Emma," Dr Lawrence said softly, "Sit down. There's something I need to tell you." Emma could tell something was wrong, for her usually cheerful dad looked upset, and, obviously, Richie was in tears.

"What?" Emma asked, obediently sitting down so Dr Lawrence was at between his two children.

"It's about your mummy," He said, voice already wavering slightly. Both of the children were silent, "I met your mummy ten years ago, when she came to work at the hospital where Daddy works-"

"Was she clever then?" Emma interrupted earnestly. Dr Lawrence realised that she had just paid him a compliment, and squeezed her hand.

"Oh, yes, she was very clever," Dr Lawrence smiled weakly, swallowing hard as the memories brought a lump to his throat. "She was brilliant with all the patients - particularly with Anne - and she was with me, too. I was really shy, you see, but she got me out of my shell, and she was the one who asked me on a date first, not the other way round. She was just so kind to everyone she met - my parents, Grandma and Grandad, loved her because she was so polite. So they were over the moon when I told them that Mummy was going to have a baby - that was you, Emma - because they knew she was going to be the best mum ever for their grandchild." Dr Lawrence paused to wipe his damp eyes, and saw that, whist Richie was still crying, Emma, so far, seemed to be okay. "And then, two years later, we found out that Mummy was going to have another baby - you, Richie. But..." This was what Dr Lawrence was really dreading, but he took a deep breath, and continued, "But then Mummy got poorly, really, really poorly. I was really worried about her, so we went to the doctors and we found out that she had c-cancer, and...only had two months to live." His voice cracked, and a single tear began to trickle down Dr Lawrence's cheek. Emma, being old enough to understand what cancer was, finally began to sob, but Richie just looked confused.

"What's cancer, Daddy?" He asked, voice hoarse from crying so much.

Wiping his eyes, Dr Lawrence said, "It's a really nasty disease, Richie." He didn't know what else to say, for he didn't want to go into details about it, but Richie seemed satisfied by the answer he gave.

No one spoke for a few minutes: Dr Lawrence struggled to hold back his tears, and the children reflected on what they had just been told.

"Was she pretty, Dad?" Emma asked shakily. As there were no photographs of their mother on display in the whole house, the children had no idea what she looked like: Dr Lawrence had been too upset to keep her picture on show.

"Yes," Dr Lawrence smiled, remembering his wedding day. "She was beautiful." He chuckled lightly, "I don't know what she saw in me!"

"Can we see a picture?" Emma asked nervously.

Dr Lawrence was dreading this, but he agreed, albeit reluctantly, and led his children up to the loft. Whilst Dr Lawrence clamoured onto a chair so he could reach the hatch - he did hate being short - Richie went into the bathroom, returning with a thick wad of toilet paper. Pulling down the ladder, Dr Lawrence smiled gratefully, using some of it to blow his runny nose and wipe his wet eyes. It sounded like Richie and Emma were doing the same.

He then climbed up the ladder and fumbled for the light switch, which, when he found it, bathed the loft in dazzlingly bright light, emitted from the single, bare light bulb. Laying on his stomach, Dr Lawrence held out his hands to Emma, who took them, and helped her up the rusty, unstable ladder. (No one had been up into the loft for years - well, seven years, really). He then did the same for Richie.

"I don't like it, Daddy, it's scary." Richie said fearfully, jumping at every creak of the floorboards or gurgle of the water tank.

"We won't be long, Richie." Dr Lawrence insisted, patting Robbie's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "I just needed to get this." Dr Lawrence had found what he was looking for; he stooped down and picked up a large, dusty cardboard box.

The three of them returned to the living room, where Dr Lawrence, hands trembling, sat cross legged on the carpet, his children either side of him, and carefully unpicked the yellowing sellotape from the top of the box. Taking a deep breath, he opened the box he had sealed almost seven years ago, getting hit in the face by a musty smell. He picked up a picture frame, but, as he tried to look at the photo, he found tears were dripping onto the glass, and Dr Lawrence had to fight hard to stop himself sobbing aloud. Quickly wiping his eyes again, Dr Lawrence showed Richie and Emma the photo.

"This is me and Mummy on our wedding day." He explained. The photo showed his wife in a smooth, straight silky white dress with a small silver tiara resting atop her blonde hair, and, although she wasn't wearing heels, she was still at least six inches taller than Dr Lawrence. He looked pretty much the same, but his navy suit and pink shirt showed that he was thinner ten years ago and, whilst it was still the same colour, his hair was much thicker, longer - almost collar length - and wasn't receding so much. They both looked so happy.

"We got married when Mummy got pregnant with you, Emma, so you can see her bump, look." He pointed a shaky finger at the photo, where you could clearly see a bulge in the front of her dress.

"She was beautiful," Emma whispered.

Dr Lawrence gulped, "Yes, she was," He agreed, before pointing at the photo again, "Can you see the rose behind her ear?" The children nodded. "Well, her name was Rose, so she really wanted to have roses on her wedding day, but we couldn't afford them. So when we were walking into the church, I picked one from a rose bush and put it behind her ear - and then got told off by the vicar!" Emma and Richie giggled weakly.

"Rose," Emma said, testing out the name. She seemed to like it by the way she smiled.

Head bowed, Dr Lawrence pulled a think, hardback book out of the box, and stroked its cover, knowing exactly what it was.

"What that, Daddy?" Richie asked.

"This is a scrapbook your Mummy made for us when she was...dying," His voice cracked, and was much shakier when he continued. "So, should we have a look?" He tried to sound cheerful, but didn't sound convincing.

They slowly flicked through pages and pages of photos that showed (just to name a few): Rose and Dr Lawrence holding their babies; the couple pushing buggies; Emma on her first day of nursery; Richie in the bath; the four of them cuddling in bed, still wearing their pyjamas; and then, on the last page, was a picture of Rose with no hair, looking incredibly ill, with breathing tubes up her nose, baby Richie on her chest, and Emma curled up beside her. Dr Lawrence remembered when that photo was taken - it was taken the day she died.

Dr Lawrence couldn't bear it; he only just made it to the toilet, locking the door behind him, before the grief overwhelmed him. He sank to the floor, put his head on his knees, and howled. Throat burning, tears pouring down his face, Dr Lawrence cried until he made himself sick. He hadn't cried so hard since Rose died, when he had cried himself to sleep every night for months.

It was only when he heard Richie and Emma frantically calling for him through the door that Dr Lawrence realised what he was doing. Attempting to slow his frantic, rapid breathing, Dr Lawrence scrubbed his sodden face dry and opened the door. Richie and Emma, both in tears, looking terrified, hurled themselves at him.

"We were so worried about you, Daddy." Richie sobbed.

"We heard you be sick, Dad, are you okay?" Emma added.

Dr Lawrence wanted to hit himself for scaring his children so badly. "I'm so sorry," He whispered tearfully, "I'm okay."

He wasn't convincing any of them, even himself, but they still clung to each other. In fact, Dr Lawrence thought that his young children were comforting him a lot more than he was them, for, whilst he eventually stopped crying, Richie and Emma continued to sob no matter how many times he reassured them.

* * *

It took ages for Dr Lawrence to settle Richie and Emma down: they were both very clingy. When he put Richie to bed, Dr Lawrence had to lay next to the boy until he finally fell asleep. And, an hour later, when he put Emma to bed too, whilst she didn't want him to do that, she still insisted on having a long cuddle.

That had been an hour ago. Even though it was now only ten o'clock, Dr Lawrence, who was too restless to watch anything on the TV, decided to go to bed himself. But as he made to leave the room, Dr Lawrence stopped next to the cardboard box. Already trying to swallow the large lump in his throat, Dr Lawrence winced as the action hurt it, for his throat was sore from crying and vomiting, but he forced himself to pick up the wedding photo and take it up to his bedroom with him.

After placing the photo frame on his bedside table. Dr Lawrence pulled himself into his red and white striped pyjamas, not bothering to fold up his shirt and trousers properly; he just dumped his clothes in a pile on the floor. Automatically, Dr Lawrence attempted to remove his glasses, before he remembered that Anne, despite his insistence that he needed them back, had stolen them off of his face whilst he was showing an inspector around yesterday, and he still hadn't had them back. Stifling a yawn, Dr Lawrence then headed along the landing, intending on brushing his teeth, but got distracted when he saw that Emma's bedroom light was on.

Sticking his head around the door, he asked, "Can't you sleep, Emma?" Emma was on her stomach, reading a book. She nodded without looking up. Dr Lawrence walked over and sat down on the edge of her bed. "Are you okay, Emma?" He whispered.

Rolling onto her back, Emma looked up at her dad, showing him her eyes were as swollen as his own.

"Do you want a cuddle?" Dr Lawrence asked, putting his arm around Emma, who sat up, leaning against him. Pulling Emma onto his lap, Dr Lawrence rested his chin on the top of Emma's head. He lost track of how long they sat there like that, but, after a while, Emma broke the silence, which made Dr Lawrence jump; he had thought she was asleep.

"Why don't we have a step-mum, Dad?" She asked.

Wondering why Emma had asked that question so randomly, Dr Lawrence replied, "Because I didn't remarry, Emma."

"Why?" She said curiously.

"Well, I was grieving for so long that I didn't even think about it," Dr Lawrence stared into space, reflecting. "And even when I did, I felt like I was betraying Mummy. But, a year or so later, I did try a couple of dates, but they didn't want to go out with someone who works in a mental hospital." He sighed, before adding more lightly, "Besides, who'd want to marry me when Anne comes to stay once a month!"

Emma giggled weakly at that; the last time Anne came to stay, she caused complete havoc, and Emma couldn't really picture someone less tolerant that her dad - and most people were less tolerant than him - putting up with her.

"I hope you do find someone, Dad - I don't think Mummy would want you to be lonely." Emma said sweetly, making Dr Lawrence want to cry again.

Giving Emma a kiss on the cheek, Dr Lawrence went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He then headed back to bed, sliding under the covers. Staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head, Dr Lawrence thought about what Emma had said, because she was right - he was lonely. Even though his first, and only, serious relationship had been with a woman, Dr Lawrence knew that he was attracted to both genders, so, in theory, he had more of a chance than most other men of getting another partner - but that didn't matter, because he was convinced that no one else would ever want to go out with him, let alone marry him.

Sighing again, Dr Lawrence hugged the wedding photo to his chest, and finally fell asleep contemplating the likelihood of him ever finding love again.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Andy, it's Lou!" Lou Todd, lisping his words, called, crossing the threshold into Andy Pipkin's flat at eight o'clock in the morning. Lou, as an insomniac, was shattered, and, as he spoke, he attempted to stifle a yawn so loud it made his jaw click, but failed.

Lou, as Andy's best friend slash carer, always tried to get to Andy's flat early, in case Andy was already awake - a rarity, but it might happen one day – and needed help going to the toilet, or something along those lines. Getting no reply, Lou checked the living room to see if Andy had gotten himself into his wheelchair by himself so he could watch monster trucks, but the crowded, filthy was empty, the TV switched off.

Heading down the hallway, Lou didn't bother to check the bathroom because, as he still hadn't gotten round to putting the mobility handrails up in there – which were designed to help Andy 'do toilet when he wasn't there' – he thought that Andy would have no reason to be in there. It was just as well for Andy that Lou didn't check the bathroom, for, just on the other side of the door, Andy was urinating, standing up, having left his wheelchair (which he didn't actually need, unbeknownst to Lou) in his bedroom.

When Lou went to investigate the kitchen instead, suspecting Andy, who could quite literally eat his own body weight in food, might have been in there, Andy, without bothering to wash his hands, ran back into his bedroom. He had just closed his eyes, faking sleep, when Lou entered the room, oblivious to Andy's movement only seconds before.

"Andy?" Lou whispered, "Are you awake?"

"No." Andy replied idiotically in his northern, monotonous drawl.

Crouching down beside the bed, Lou asked delicately, "Do you need to do toilet?"

"No." Andy repeated firmly.

"Well, let's get you up, anyway." Moving Andy into a sitting position, Lou, hands under Andy's armpits, lifted his friend up, having to shuffle as he tried to bear Andy's weight, before dropping Andy into his wheelchair. "What a kerfuffle." Lou panted, desperately out of breath.

Taking hold of its handles, Lou wheeled the chair into the living room, parking Andy in front of the TV as usual. Today, however, Lou wanted to speak to Andy, and, because he knew Andy would blank him if the TV was on, he didn't switch on the set.

Within five seconds of being in the room, Andy protested about the TV being off, "I wanna watch monster trucks." He moaned.

"In a minute, Andy," Lou replied, trying to start up the conversation he wanted to have, "I just need to-"

"I wanna watch monster trucks!" Andy demanded, completely interrupting his carer. In a desperate attempt to get his own way, Andy released the brakes on his wheelchair and wheeled himself closer to the TV, trying to reach the remote from where it was placed on top of the set.

"Okay," Lou sighed, giving in as he always did; he put Andy's favourite video into the VCR, and let him watch his monster trucks. "I'm just going to make your breakfast, Andy," Lou announced to the invalid.

Getting no response from Andy, Lou headed into the kitchen, feeling defeated, because no matter what he tried to do, Andy wasn't interested. As Lou opened the fridge, he imagined what it must be like to be Andy – always getting your own way - and thought that it would be nice to not be ordered around so much. But then Lou remembered that Andy needed his help, for he wouldn't be able to survive without his helper. Feeling almost guilty for wanting to be in Andy's situation, Lou thought about what it must be like to always be stuck in that wheelchair, to have to be helped to the toilet, to always get followed around by someone, and realised how lucky he was to be the able bodied one.

Giving his tired eyes a quick rub, Lou poured Andy a glass of milk, and got him a bowl of cereal. Andy wasn't keen on cereal, but this was part of the diet plan the doctor had given Lou the last time he took Andy, who was diagnosed clinically obese, for a check up. The first time Lou tried to implement that plan was a memory he really wanted to forget:

_"Here you are, Andy." Lou said enthusiastically, putting a tray onto his friend's lap._

_For once, Andy tore his gaze from the TV screen to look down in disgust. "What is it?" He asked bluntly._

_"It's quorn mince spaghetti bolognaise – it was on the plan the doctor gave us this morning." Lou explained, still smiling goofily._

_"I don't like it." Andy said without trying any of it. He didn't even pick up his fork._

_"Come on, Andy, it's for your own good – its really healthy." Lou insisted._

_"I want crisps." Andy demanded._

_"Please, Andy, just try it." Lou pleaded._

_"I want crisps!" Andy yelled._

_Struggling to suppress his irritation, Lou speared some food onto the fork, and tried to feed Andy like you would a baby. But Andy shoved the fork away with such force he hit Lou in the face, and threw the plate onto the floor._

_"I. Want. Crisps." Andy stated, either oblivious to, or not caring about, the fact that Lou was so hurt he was actually near tears._

_When Lou next spoke, he sounded defeated, "Okay, I'll get you some crisps." Head bowed, Lou shuffled out of the room, nursing the bruise on his cheek. He returned with a bag of crisps, and the dust pan and brush, and proceeded to clear up the mess, vowing with himself to never mention the diet plan again._

But despite that experience, Lou now insisted on Andy eating at least one healthy meal a day, their compromise being that Andy could have whatever he wanted for the rest of the day.

So, taking the milk and cereal into the living room, Lou handed them to Andy, and crouched down beside the wheelchair.

"It's Saturday today, Andy, so-" Lou began, but Andy cut him off,

"Yeah, I know." Andy interjected, quickly gulping down his milk and thrusting the glass at Lou, who took it from him.

"So," Lou continued, trying to pretend he hadn't been interrupted, "I thought we could go on an outing today." He suggested, eyeing Andy with anticipation.

Andy shrugged, clearly not bothered, but, at the same time, not rejecting the idea entirely.

"We could maybe go to the library?" Lou held his breath, already knowing what Andy's reaction was going to be.

"But I can't read." Andy stated.

This was true enough: the last time Lou took Andy to a library, they had wasted ages looking for something for Andy to read, only to leave the library with two identical copies of a Chinese history book, and another on Chinese language. And, to top it off, when they left the library, it only took Andy seconds to inform Lou that he couldn't actually read.

Lou wrinkled his nose slightly to put his glasses back in the right place, before adding, "I know that, Andy, but I've found us another library that has videos as well, so I can get a book, and you can get something to watch." Lou grinned, thinking this was the perfect solution. "It's in Flatley, which is only a fifteen minute drive away."

"Okay." Andy drawled, and Lou patted his arm, smiling broadly.

Realising he needed to urinate, Lou said, "I just need to do toilet, Andy, I'll be back in a minute." Standing up, Lou adjusted the waistband of his track suit bottoms, and left Andy alone in the room.

As soon as the cost was clear, Andy ran into the kitchen, emptying his cereal straight into the bin. His stomach rumbling, Andy rummaged through the cupboards, and managed to find a bar of chocolate behind a box of corn flakes. Quickly shoving the whole thing into his mouth, Andy found his teeth cemented together with chocolate, unable to chew properly. He jumped as he heard Lou flush the toilet, and hurtled back into the living room, having to run awkwardly as the crotch of his track suit bottoms was between his knees. Andy managed to get back into his wheelchair just two seconds before Lou returned, wiping his damp hands on his trousers.

Upon seeing the empty cereal bowl in Andy's hands, Lou cried, "Well done, Andy!" as if eating all your cereal is an amazing achievement. But, looking closer, Lou saw Andy's mouth was full with something, his cheeks bulging. "What are you eating, Andy?" He sounded just like a parent who's caught their child stealing from the biscuit tin.

Swallowing hard, Andy managed to say, "Nuffin.", his voice very muffled by the amount of chocolate still wedged into his mouth.

Raising his eyebrows, Lou replied, "It doesn't look like nothing to me, Andy."

"It's nothing." Andy insisted, but, as he spoke, a large amount of chocolaty saliva trickled down his chin.

Realising what Andy was eating, Lou sighed, but wiped the chocolate from Andy's face before he could protest. Andy hated Lou wiping his face, so, this was Lou's own way of punishing his friend, whilst still treating him like the invalid he thought he was.

* * *

"Here we are, Andy." Lou announced cheerfully, pulling the van into a disabled parking space.

"Yeah, I know." Andy replied, staring at the radio. Lou could understand him staring at the telly, but the radio! It was a very weird thing to do.

As he got out of his seat and went to retrieve Andy's wheelchair from the boot, Lou was amazed by the appearance of Flatley town centre: it was clean and free of the explicit graffiti he was sick of seeing; the residents of Flatley were all smartly dressed, and going about their daily business in a calm, collected manner, much unlike the yobs in Herby, who terrorized the elderly people who lived there, as well as bullied him and Andy for being different; the shops and other buildings were all mock Tudor in design, a stark contrast to the council houses and tower blocks that dominated Herby's skyline. It astounded Lou that somewhere only a thirty minute drive away could be so different to their town of residence, which was, in the words of Andy's brother Declan, 'a shit hole'.

Closing the boot, Lou took the chair around to Andy's side of the van, and wasted five minutes trying to get the wheelchair bound man into it without dropping him. Once the kerfuffle was over with, Lou, badly out of breath, locked his van, and began to wheel Andy, already eating a new packet of crisps, into the library.

The place was deserted; only the librarian, two smartly dressed men, and a tall woman were in there. Lou didn't understand, because he thought that loads of people would want to visit such a large library, but Lou and Andy soon found out why. The tall woman, wearing a long, pink dress that looked suspiciously like a night gown, and sporting a crew cut with a hair clip in it, was clearly insane, for she threw books, ran around aimlessly, stole things from the two men - one of whom looked really uncomfortable, but the other, who, so far, Lou had only seen from behind, sounded very calm, obviously used to this behaviour - and screamed "Eh, eh, eeeeeeeh!" at the top of her voice.

Lou and Andy watched this disturbing display from the safety of the doorway, but, when Andy moaned that he was bored, Lou, clearly apprehensive, wheeled Andy up to the desk, behind which the woman was now stood.

"Um, hello-" Lou began nervously, but the woman cut him off,

"Eh, eh, eeeeeh!" She shrieked, before leaning across the desk - and licking Lou's face.

"Anne!" The calmer man called, walking over, as Lou wiped the saliva on his sleeve, "I don't think he wants to be licked."

Anne made a noise that told Lou she was disappointed.

"I'm sorry about that." The man said, and Lou turned to look at him.

Lou didn't know why, but something about his appearance made him stare at the man, almost transfixed: Lou took in his deep brown eyes, his neatly combed brown hair, his slightly goofy teeth - obviously, not as goofy as Lou's - and his warm, friendly smile that made Lou feel like he was completely safe around him.

"I'm Dr Lawrence," He explained, holding out his hand for Lou to shake.

Lou did, but as soon as he touched Dr Lawrence's warm, but not clammy, hand, a strange tingling sensation ran up his fingers, making him shiver slightly. He smiled at Dr Lawrence, finding himself not wanting to let go of his hand when Dr Lawrence released his grip on Lou's.

"I'm Lou, Lou Todd." Lou replied, surprised to find his voice shaking slightly.

" I work at Steven Spielberg Psychiatric hospital here in Flatley - Anne, there, is one of my patients." Dr Lawrence continued, wondering if Lou, who was acting strangely, was okay.

"I want a video." Andy demanded, jolting Lou back into reality.

Apologetic, Lou said, "Of course, Andy, I'm sorry." He turned back to Dr Lawrence, "My friend here is looking for a video, do you know where they are?" he asked.

"Of course," Dr Lawrence turned to the mental patient, who was pressing stamps all over the desk. "Anne, can you show these two men the video section?" He asked brightly, as if speaking to a child.

Anne, without stopping, walked over to the far end of the library, and Dr Lawrence, Lou and Andy followed.

"Eh, eh, eeeeh." She said surprisingly calmly, as if to tell them they were in the right place. Walking back to the desk, Anne stopped beside the other man, Dr Beagrie, who was chatting to the librarian, and stroked his face, before carrying on walking as if nothing had just happened. Dr Beagrie, glancing nervously at Anne, hurried over, and stood beside Dr Lawrence.

"Thank you, Anne." Dr Lawrence called.

"Thank you." Lou smiled again at the Doctor, who, along with his companion, promptly left them to it, heading back to the desk to observe his patient.

Dr Lawrence kept Anne in his sight at all times, but found himself glancing over at Lou and Andy, watching them deliberate over what video tape to pick. Judging by his behaviour, Dr Lawrence considered Andy to be very rude to his helper, because he never seemed to respond to Lou's questions without snapping at him. Lou, on the other hand, seemed to be an incredibly kind person, for the Doctor could see he had dedicated his life to caring for his disabled friend. Noting their scruffy appearance, Dr Lawrence guessed that they were both living off of benefits, which meant that Lou wasn't even getting paid for his job. Dr Lawrence wondered what it must be like to spend your life caring for someone, and not get any kind of reward for it.

Having to stop himself looking at Dr Lawrence again, Lou held up the video, and said to Andy, "Are you _sure_ this is the video you want?" Having spent the last five minutes deciding which tape they should hire, Lou wanted to make sure they made the right choice.

"Yep." Andy said firmly, popping the 'p'.

"Right." Lou tucked the video under his arm and wheeled Andy up to the desk.

Anne looked at Lou, her tongue sticking slightly out of her mouth, but, as he kept his distance this time, she knew that she wouldn't be able to reach him to lick his face again.

"Er," He began apprehensively, "I'd like to take thus video out, please."

Both of the doctors were stood next to him, and Lou heard Dr Lawrence whisper, "Watch this." to Dr Beagrie. Holding out the video, Lou watched Anne snatch it from his hand with another cry of, "Eh, eh, eeeeh!", before proceeding to violently bite the plastic case. Throwing the video onto the floor, Anne stamped on it several times, seemingly enjoying herself, before stopping abruptly as a telephone began to ring.

Lou certainly wasn't expecting what was about to happen next; Anne reached up her sleeve, and pulled a black mobile phone out. Lou had no idea how she had kept it in place, but was even more shocked when Anne, who he thought was incapable of speech, answered the call.

"Hello?" She said cheerfully in a deep, masculine voice. She then covered the mouthpiece with her hand, and said to the four men, still in the deep voice, "Sorry guys, before speaking into the phone again, "I'm at the library right now, so can I call you back, 'cause it's a bit rude? ... Okay... Bye-bye." Ending the call, Anne put down the phone on the desk, and continued to stamp on the video case, resuming her strange screams.

Andy seemed to find the whole thing rather funny, because he began to snigger under his breath, but Lou didn't notice; he was staring at Dr Lawrence again.

After a few more seconds, Anne picked up the video, now cracked and dented, and placed it on the desk. Inking up the stamp, she leaned forwards, and stamped Lou three times on the face. Looking totally bemused, Lou took the video from Anne, barely managing to stammer out a thank you he was so shocked, and handed it to Andy.

Thanking the Doctors and the librarian, eyes lingering on Dr Lawrence, Lou then wheeled the chair out of the library, still reeling from the strange turn of events.

* * *

Five hours later, Lou decided to put on Andy's video for him, for monster trucks had finished, and Andy was totally bored. Of course, it only took five seconds of watching the opening titles for Andy to dislike it, and Lou, swearing under his breath, soon found himself back in the van, driving to Flatley once again.

But when he entered the library and returned the video, he found that Dr Lawrence, along with Anne and Dr Beagrie, had gone - and Lou couldn't understand why that made him feel so disappointed.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Although he didn't realise it, Lou subconsciously began to plan his and Andy's next trip to Flatley library only a few hours after his return. It was only on the following Friday morning that he actually started to think about their next outing, and, naturally, Lou came to a decision quite quickly, but, at no point, did he guess the true reason for why he wanted to return to Flatley. Of course, deep down, Lou knew that he did want to see Dr Lawrence again, but he never chose to think about it, because, if he was totally honest, it scared him, and he didn't understand why.

Instead, Lou told himself that he wanted to return so he could marvel at the town's beauty, or see the insane yet somehow likeable mental patient again, or just that it would be a shame to avoid such a large, well stocked library, completely unlike the small, dingy library in Herby.

So, Lou had their Saturday outing all planned out (regardless of his intentions for going there) and was thoroughly looking forward to it, despite the uncomfortable sensation he got in his abdomen whenever Dr Lawrence's image or voice entered his mind, but he was still left with the near impossible task or persuading Andy to come with him.

Andy, half asleep but still managing to shove crisps into his mouth, was, as usual, slumped in front of the television in his wheelchair when Lou came over to him.

"Do you want to do anything tomorrow, Andy?" Lou asked nervously. He, for the reason he still wouldn't listen to, really wanted to go back to Flatley library, and wasn't sure he could take it if Andy wouldn't let him.

"Not bothered, really." Andy replied drowsily, eyelids drooping. It never ceased to amaze Lou, and anyone else to ever met him, how tired Andy could get when he didn't really ever do anything. Then again, Andy might have been tired because he didn't move. Lou was sure he'd read that somewhere.

"Oh," Lou sounded deflated, despite knowing that this reaction was completely predictable. He paused for a few seconds, trying to ignore the urge to bang his head against the door frame. When Lou finally spoke again, he tried his hardest to sound upbeat and enthusiastic, "I've got an idea, Andy," Lou grinned broadly at Andy. "Why don't we go back to Flately library? You liked it there."

Andy immediately replied with, "But we went there last week - and I can't read, anyway." It didn't sound like he was arguing, just stating the facts. Maybe this meant Andy was more likely to go along with Lou's idea. He certainly hoped so.

"But it was nice there, wasn't it?" Lou pressed.

"I guess so." Andy shrugged, not really interested at all. Although he silently agreed that a day trip would be a nice change, Andy still would rather watch monster trucks and stuff his face with junk food. And anyway, Andy would never admit to agreeing with his friend - that would make Lou's life far too easy.

"Come on, Andy." Lou playfully shoved his arm, still straying to sound positive, rather than pleading.

"Okay." Andy sighed heavily, as if it was the most difficult thing in the world to do.

Lou grinned broadly. "Great! We'll go tomorrow, then." He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this excited about visiting a library of all places.

Andy gave him a look. It was slightly unnerving to see Lou, who was usually unhappy and depressed, looking so cheerful. In fact, Andy couldn't remember the last time Lou was this happy, and they had known each other for years. Andy wasn't exactly the most chatty person in the world, nor someone who cared about Lou, but this had piqued his curiosity, and he wanted an answer.

"Why're you so happy?"

Lou looked slightly shocked at the sudden question, and then confused as the struggled to think up an answer. "Why am I so happy?" He repeated to buy himself some time. To be truthful, he didn't know why, but now Andy had asked a question, he wouldn't shut up until he got an answer.

"Yeah,"

It took a few minutes, but Lou finally came up with a reason. "I'm glad you agreed with me over where to go tomorrow," He wasn't sure that Andy was totally convinced, but Andy decided to leave it at that, and went back to blanking Lou as he usually did.

* * *

"Are you going to the library again tomorrow, Dad?" Emma asked as her dad came through the front door.

"And hello to you too, Emma," Dr Lawrence grinned, giving her a hug and kissing the top of her head. "Yes, I am. Why?"

Emma looked down for a moment, digging in the pocket of her school cardigan. She found what she was looking for - a light pink envelope - and handed it to Dr Lawrence. He had opened it and began to look at the letter inside before she said, "I got invited to a birthday party."

Dr Lawrence looked up from the invitation in disbelief. "But the party's tomorrow, why did they only give you the invite today?" He didn't understand how children's minds worked (yes, he was a psychiatrist, but not a paediatric one). Why on earth would you invite someone to your party less than twenty four hours before it?

"That's Abbie for you, Dad," Emma shrugged, smiling at the puzzled look on Dr Lawrence's face.

"Abbie?" Dr Lawrence knew his daughter had lots of friends, but he had never heard her mention an Abbie before.

"She's one of the really popular girls," Emma explained. "I don't really know her, but it would be mad to say no to her. And Chloe says she always has the best parties. So will you be able to take me or will you be at the library by then?" She looked anxiously at her feet as she awaited a reply.

Dr Lawrence tried to work out the timings in his head, hoping they wouldn't clash. Of course, he knew that his job (which currently involved trying to get Anne adjusted to normal life - which, obviously, was almost impossible) was important, but, at the same time, he didn't want Emma to miss out on her party. Luckily, he worked it out, and realised that he could do both. Dr Lawrence smiled at Emma.

"You can go." He said softly, immediately getting hugged so hard it compromised his breathing.

"Thank you, Dad," Emma grinned, and, letting go of Dr Lawrence, ran upstairs to text Abbie.

Seeing Emma so happy made Dr Lawrence feel happy too, something he rarely felt nowadays. A big grin on his face, Dr Lawrence headed into the living room, and found Richie and their babysitter, Sophie, sat on the sofa, stuffing their faces with popcorn. The curtains were drawn, and an animated film was playing on their large TV. A quick glance told him the film was _Toy Story 2._

"Hello, you two," Dr Lawrence said over the film, making them both jump. "Why have you made my living room into a cinema?" He pretended to sound cross, but was still grinning.

"Oh, it's because I wanted to see a film this evening but all the tickets were sold out," Sophie explained. "So Richie suggested making our own cinema in here. It was a good idea, wasn't it?"

Dr Lawrence had to agree, and went and sat next to them both, helping himself to popcorn.

No one spoke until the credits began to roll. By this time, it was well over Sophie's normal babysitting hours, but Dr Lawrence gave her an extra fifteen pounds without questioning it. Sophie smiled gratefully, and went to leave the house.

"Sophie?" Dr Lawrence called, stopping her in her tracks.

"Yeah?"

"Is it okay for you to babysit tomorrow afternoon too?" He asked, wondering if he was pushing his luck. "Because I have to take Anne - do you know Anne?" He suddenly asked.

Sophie shook her head. She had never met Anne the mental patient, but had seen the way she had totally destroyed the house after her last visit.

"Well I have to take her to the library for her Saturday job, and I'd rather stay until she's settled in. She's only gone twice so far, you see." Dr Lawrence often didn't realise how much he babbled sometimes.

Sophie agreed to do it (It was too good an offer to miss: Dr Lawerence paid her ten pounds an hour), and finally left.

Later that evening, when the children had both gone to bed, Dr Lawrence fund himself thinking about last weekend, when he had met Lou and his friend Andy in the library. They were totally unlike the normal visitors to Flatley, and he guessed that they didn't live in Flatley, because they were totally new faces. Dr Lawrence found himself thinking particularly about Lou. There was something about him that made Dr Lawrence want to know him better, and he hoped that Lou would be there tomorrow so he could speak to him again.

* * *

When Lou finally reached Flatley library's car park, he breathed a massive sigh of relief. He had had the drive from hell. Lou didn't like being blasphemous, but he felt it was justified right now. Lou had only just left Herby when he drove straight into a traffic jam on an A road, which made the fifteen minute journey an hour long one instead; he had to pull over at a service station to take Andy to the toilet, which was a right kerfuffle; Andy ate his three packets of crisps and spent the rest of the journey moaning that he wanted more crisps (the ones Lou bought in the service station didn't count because he didn't like cheese and onion flavoured crisps);and the van had been far too hot despite the weatherman's insistence that they weren't in the middle of a heat wave. Lou was certain that if that drive had been any longer, his famously thick temper would have snapped.

Lou was so pleased to get out of the van that he practically skipped around the van, before he realised how stupid he must look, and stopped. After a brief struggle and almost dislocating his shoulder, Lou got Andy into his wheelchair. Despite his moans on the journey, Andy was now eating the cheese and onion crisps, but Lou couldn't be bothered to argue with him.

As he wheeled Andy towards the automatic doors, Lou found himself getting hot, and his heart rate sped up. He was certain that he was blushing.

"Get a grip." He muttered to himself, but his body language still betrayed him: he was trembling slightly, and his face had turned bright red.

It was wonderfully cool in the library, thanks to the air conditioning, and Lou hoped that the cold air would make his face go back to normal. His chest tight, Lou pushed Andy further into the room, looking around to try and spot Dr Lawrence and Anne. But he couldn't see them. Even the librarian wasn't behind her desk; it was like everyone had vanished.

Realisation that Dr Lawrence wasn't here dawned on Lou, and he ducked his head, his throat starting to hurt. He felt like such an idiot, traipsing all this way to see someone who wasn't here. His eyes stung; he felt as though he'd been stood up. Although that was a ridiculous comparison, because this was hardly a date. And he didn't want it to be either, did he?

Lou was so deep in thought that he failed to notice someone creeping up on him until it was too late.

"Eh, eh,eeehhh!" Lou heard a scream much like a battle cry, before someone slammed into his side. He was thrown to the carpeted floor, his glasses flying off of his face, and Lou's head hit the ground with a painful _bonk! _He was pinned to the floor by the someone kneeling on his chest, who then proceeded to lick his face repeatedly.

"Anne!" Lou's stomach lurched as he heard Dr Lawrence's stern voice, followed by two sets of footsteps as he and someone else hurried over. If Lou had been in any other position, he would have smiled.

Anne was still licking Lou's face, making disgusting slobbering noises much like a dog, his eyelids squeezed shut to stop her sticking her tongue in his eye. When the licking suddenly stopped, Lou gingerly opened his eyes, and saw a very blurry Dr Lawrence hauling a very blurry Anne off of his chest. Lou breathed deeply for the first time, but winced as it pulled on the bruises from Anne's knees and his fall. Through the ringing in his ears, Lou heard Dr Lawrence telling Anne that her behaviour was too violent, but in his own gentle, if firm, way.

Despite his blurred vision, Lou saw Dr Beagrie offer him a hand, which he took gratefully. Once Lou was on his feet, the silent Doctor handed him his glasses, and when Lou had put them on, smiled at him without saying a word. Giving Lou a nod, Dr Beagrie headed back over to the librarian's office, carefully dodging Anne as she tried to stroke his face.

Lou soon realised that standing up had been a mistake; his head was pounding and his vision contorted despite now wearing his glasses. The ringing in his ears was now so loud he couldn't hear Dr Lawrence's one-sided conversation with Anne, and he stumbled sideways, the floor wobbling beneath his feet.

"Lou?" Andy's voice was faint, and seemed to echo as Lou saw black shapes in the corners of his vision.

Lou's eyelids flickered shut, and the next thing he knew was he was lying on his back on the floor, Dr Beagrie holding his feet up so his legs were raised.

"Mr Todd?" Lou saw Dr Lawrence kneeling beside him, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

Lou shivered, and realised he was cold because an ice pack had been bandaged to his bruised head. "What happened?" He asked. His voice was slurred, like he was drunk.

"You fainted, Mr Todd," The librarian informed him. "You were out for three minutes - if you were for much longer I was going to call an ambulance."

"How do you feel, Mr Todd?" Dr Lawrence asked. Lou realised he was holding his wrist, presumably taking his pulse. He understood this, but not why his stomach lurched again at this simple physical contact.

"My head hurts," He said softly. "And my ribs,"

Lou held his breath as Dr Lawrence quickly checked him for fractures and even cerebral compression (he was evidently very highly qualified in first aid), but he concluded that Lou was bruised and concussed, but luckily nothing worse.

"But it could have been much worse, Dr Lawrence," The librarian snapped. "Why can you not control your patient better, she's a hazard - and look what she's doing now!" She suddenly cried, pointing at Anne, who was trying to climb up a three metre high bookcase.

"No Anne!" Dr Lawrence called, and Anne got down, looking bashful. "She didn't mean to hurt Mr Todd, but I'm sorry all the same," Dr Lawrence gave Lou a smile.

"You can call me Lou," Lou said, smiling back. "And I'm okay, really." Lou tried to sit up, but it made him so light headed he slumped sideways into Dr Lawrence, almost passing out again.

"Careful." Dr Lawrence kept Lou sitting up, holding him by the arm to keep him upright. If Lou hadn't looked so pale, he was sure he would have blushed again.

When it became possible for Lou to sit up without fainting, Dr Lawrence and Dr Beagrie helped him to his feet and into a nearby chair. He smiled gratefully at them both. Dr Lawrence sat in the chair beside him, whilst Dr Beagrie, still trying to avoid Anne, wheeled a moaning Andy towards them.

"I'm bored," Andy whined, putting the brakes on his wheelchair as Dr Beagrie stopped pushing him.

Dr Lawrence wondered how Andy could be so insensitive towards Lou, and wanted to talk to Lou about what it was like to look after someone like Andy, so he suggested that Dr Beagrie take him over to the video section.

Despite not looking very impressed, Dr Beagrie did so, leaving Lou and Dr Lawrence alone. Almost immediately, Dr Lawrence turned in his seat to face Lou and said, "What's it like being a carer?"

Lou, his brain addled by the concussion, struggled to think up a response. He wondered why Dr Lawrence had asked him that question out of the blue, and what it wad going to lead to. But, finally, he thought of what to say. "It takes up your whole life," he said, watching Dr Lawrence's face closely. "I get up at six thirty every morning, and go to bed at midnight every night. Between those two times, I'm looking after Andy."

Dr Lawrence was shocked. So Lou spent seventeen and a half hours a day looking after Andy. He said it so matter of factly as well, as though he didn't think that was an excessively long day. "And you don't get paid?"

"Nope," Lou said. "Andy's my friend, so I'm not a paper carer who gets paid." This time, Dr Lawrence heard a twinge of bitterness in Lou's voice.

"I think you're a proper carer," Dr Lawrence said softly. "You've dedicated your life to looking after someone who depends on you - what's not proper about that?"

Lou smiled at him, looking slightly tearful. "Thank you, that was a lovely thing to say."

Dr Lawrence patted Lou's arm gently, not noticing how Lou slightly tensed at the touch. "Well, I think you need a compliment, Lou, because Andy doesn't seem to give them to you."

Lou nodded in agreement, his smile disappearing. "I know what you mean. Andy appreciates me-"

"Of course he does," Dr Lawrence added.

"But he doesn't show it." Lou continued. He paused. "What's it like working with Anne?"

"Perfect," Dr Lawrence said simply as Anne took off his tie and tried, unsuccessfully, to strangle Dr Beagrie with it. "I wouldn't change it for the world."

_And I wouldn't change you_, Lou thought.


End file.
